more nor half wished it a' the time."
"Weel for thee thou dudstna cross the brook."
"Hoity-toity, why not?"
"Keep at heyame after nightfall, and don't ye be walking by yersel' by
daylight or any light lang lonesome ways, till after ye're baptised,"
said Mall Carke.
"I'm like to be married first."
"Tak care _that_ marriage won't hang i' the bell-ropes," said Mother
Carke.
"Leave me alane for that. The young lord said he was maist daft wi'
luv o' me. He wanted to gie me a conny ring wi' a beautiful stone in
it. But, drat it, I was sic an awpy I wudna tak it, and he a young
lord!"
"Lord, indeed! are ye daft or dreamin'? Those fine folk, what were
they? I'll tell ye. Dobies and fairies; and if ye don't du as yer bid,
they'll tak ye, and ye'll never git out o' their hands again while
grass grows," said the old woman grimly.
"Od wite it!" replies the girl impatiently, "who's daft or dreamin'
noo? I'd a bin dead wi' fear, if 'twas any such thing. It cudna be;
all was sa luvesome, and bonny, and shaply."
"Weel, and what do ye want o' me, lass?" asked the old woman sharply.
"I want to know--here's t' sixpence--what I sud du," said the young
lass. "'Twud be a pity to lose such a marrow, hey?"
"Say yer prayers, lass; _I_ can't help ye," says the old woman darkly.
"If ye gaa wi' _the_ people, ye'll never come back. Ye munna talk wi'
them, nor eat wi' them, nor drink wi' them, nor tak a pin's-worth by
way o' gift fra them--mark weel what I say--or ye're _lost!_"
The girl looked down, plainly much vexed.
The old woman stared at her with a mysterious frown steadily, for a
few seconds.
"Tell me, lass, and tell me true, are ye in luve wi' that lad?"
"What for sud I?" said the girl with a careless toss of her head, and
blushing up to her very temples.
"I see how it is," said the old woman, with a groan, and repeated the
words, sadly thinking; and walked out of the door a step or two, and
looked jealously round. "The lass is witched, the lass is witched!"
"Did ye see him since?" asked Mother Carke, returning.
The girl was still embarrassed; and now she spoke in a lower tone, and
seemed subdued.
"I thought I sid him as I came here, walkin' beside me among the
trees; but I consait it was only the trees themsels that lukt like
rinnin' one behind another, as I walked on."
"I can tell thee nowt, lass, but what I telt ye afoore," answered the
old woman peremptorily. "Get ye heyame, and don't delay
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